


Helpless Moments

by SusanaR



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe G version (DH AU G) [36]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Backstory, Brothers, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Romance, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:42:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eldarion's sons are a chip of the block, but Glorfindel had his helpless moments, too. And a lot of them relate to his lost wife, and her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: This story was written years ago in response to a prompt: Five Days of Helplessness - Each day has a different prompt, starting with just 'helpless,' and then going to 'helpless fear,' then 'helpless sobs,' then 'helpless romantic,' and lightening up at the end with 'helpless laughter.' Thanks to Sparx for the prompt, and to Emma for looking over an earlier draft of the story, and to everyone who left feedback on the yahoo group! 
> 
> A/N 2: The main story, the first part, is set before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 1,090 years before the sun rises. If my numbers are off slightly because I'm rounding Valian years to taking about 10 years instead of 9.8 something years (or off entirely for some other reason), please forgive me. In any case, Artanis is a young elleth of a bit over 300 years of age. Later parts of the flashback move to when the Noldor exile rebels were crossing the Helcaraxe.
> 
> The prologue takes place in approximately Fourth Age Year 41 or 42 (Eldarion would be about 43; his twin sons are about 16).

Prologue: 

The relative quiet of a third day evening on the fourth circle of Minas Tirith was rent by the terrifying sound of a woman crying for help.

Glorfindel had been shadowing some young escapees from the citadel, but he didn't have to choose between protecting them and going to the mystery lady's aid, because of course, of course, Faramir's younger son Lord Ecthelion (called Elion), just nineteen years of age, and his partners in crime, Princes Elros and Kader, the only sons of Crown Prince Eldarion, had immediately set off running towards the sounds of distress.

Glorfindel sighed, and followed them. Trying to teach the heirs of Earendil not to go running off to the rescue of a lass without a second thought was a helpless, thankless task. And really, Glorfindel himself was only more cautious, and not disinclined to do more-or-less the same thing.

Soon enough, they came upon a robber, who already had a female merchant's coin pouch in his hand, but was now fiercely beating her with it, for having dared to fight back.

The spirit had gone out of the terrified woman who was his victim, and she sobbed helplessly as the Princes and their cousin ran to the rescue, just paces ahead of the Balrog-Slayer. Whose aid Faramir's younger son and Eldarion's sons didn't really need just to deal with one vicious robber. Glorfindel was proud of them, although it wouldn’t spare them from the storm which would break over their deserving heads once he got them back to their father, or in Elion's case, older brother. 

Later, when the robber was cooling his heels in the guard station on the third level, impatiently but carefully being tended by Lord Elion the healer-in-training, Glorfindel found his first moments alone with Aragorn's second-heirs.

The shame-faced but still proud Princes were nursing bruises and soon-to-be-sore ears under the Balrog-Slayer's watchful eyes, waiting for their grandfather and his guards to come collect them, but that didn't seem to intimidate them overly much.

Prince Elros, the heir's heir, crossed his arms and said half-defiantly, half-apologetically, "Well, go ahead, Uncle Glorfindel. Scold us. You know you want to."

Glorfindel snorted, and advised with a grin, "Next time, Eldarionnath, just hit him harder."

Lord Elion, back from treating the wounds the robber had gotten as he'd tried to stop himself from being captured, merely laughed, as his best friends stared on incredulously.

Then Crown Prince and Regent Eldarion was there, as well as Lord Elboron the Steward-Regent, and the three youths had other things to worry over, for a time. 

"Oh, come on." Faramir's younger son asked the twins later, when they were alone in the princes' bed chamber in Eldarion's apartments, "Didn't anyone ever tell you two the story of Uncle Glorfindel's wife, tithen gwedyr-nin?" 

"No," the younger twin, Kader, said, rolling his eyes in disgust as he teased, "We're not Lady Miriel-the-elf-friend's favorite-sweet-baby-brother, so we don't know all the best elven gossip from before the sun rose. So, tell us, oh sweet-brother-mine. I am your Prince, or one of them anyway, and I command it of you." Kader was somewhat annoyed that Elion was in less trouble, because he was older, and cousin Elboron was a soft touch. 

"Well, I don't know if I should, if you're going to be like that..." Elion murmured, tapping the end of his quill against his essay. They were all in enough trouble without Kader starting more, and it had been all the twins' idea as usual to sneak out. Besides, no called Elion sweet-brother except Mithiriel, and maybe her husband, whom Elion idolized.

"Tell us, please, Elion." Elros pleaded. Eldarion's son Elros was a bit of a diplomat and a peace-maker, while his twin Kader was a cheerful trouble-maker. It was a dynamic that worked out well, and Elion thought his older brother Elboron was probably right. Elion's twin cousins and gwedyr would be a powerfully effective team as King and General, someday. Or maybe King and Admiral - Kader had been born with a love of the sea.

"Oh, very well. Since you were both caught out on my watch, here it is." Elion had a hard time denying his little cousins much of anything, when they asked nicely. And besides, he was older and more responsible, and it wasn't all their fault that they always talked him into trouble.

 

Aman, during the Years of the Trees in the First Age: 

Laureamoriel laid on her comfortable bed, on top of the silken sheets, trying not to cry in horror. She could clearly hear, from her parent's bed chamber beside hers, her mother's helpless cries of pain.

"Oww!" Almare screamed, "Please, please....my Lord Husband! Mercy!" 

Another loud crack, and the flat of her father's hand against her mother's fair cheek. Laureamoriel winced. 

"This is mercy, you simple, sweet little fool!" Senior Officer Hiswafion, one of Feanoro's favorite household guards, growled menacingly to his wife. 

Almare wept, and so did her daughter Laureamoriel, from the safety of her room and the comfort of her silken sheets. Laureamoriel wept silently, so as not to attract her father's rage. 

Almare's loud, broken sobs did not stop her husband. 'Crack' went his hand again, and Laureamoriel hoped that it was over. Then she heard the swish and thwack of the maple cane, and knew that it was not. 

"You ruined Prince Feanoro's favorite tunic!" Hiswafion berated, in his loud, bold voice. "The one that Lord Melkor himself gave to our Prince! You stupid little fool, how can you call yourself a laundress! I should never have shamed my family by marrying an elleth so beneath me as you!" 

And Laureamoriel cried desperately while her mother pleaded and suffered, because it was Laureamoriel, who, while daydreaming, had added the soap that discolored the Prince's tunic. She had been punished for it, by her mother, but not to bruises and tears. Almare had been stern but kind. 

 

Hiswafion was not. And Laureamoriel hated herself, for not admitting that it was her fault, for not interfering to protect her mother. But Laureamoriel kept her promises, and she had promised her mother that she wouldn't tell her father that it had been she, and not Alamare, who ruined the tunic. 

"I deserve to be punished for giving such an important task to you anyway, yelde ammelda." Almare had said consolingly, "Everyone knows you prefer your books and scrolls to learning the ways of a wife from me. But no worries, we shall see you well-married someday, no matter. You are beautiful, gentle-natured, and the daughter of an officer in our Prince's guard. 

Laureamoriel had managed a tremulous smile for her brave mother, but silently, the young dark-haired beauty had made herself a promise. One she repeated as she listened to her mother wail in helpless misery and pain.

"I will never marry." Laureamoriel promised herself, "Never, never, never will I put myself in thrall to an ellon."


	2. Helpless Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel's future wife Laureamoriel joins the service of Artanis, who will one day be known as Galadriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Set before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 1,090 years before the sun rises. Artanis is a young elleth of a bit over 300 years of age. Laureamoriel is just a little over fifty years old.
> 
> The original character Lady Niniel is the creation of Kaylee, and a character in her and Emma's AU. I use her with their kind permission.

Laureamoriel was just past her majority, still quite a young elleth, when her father hit her hard enough to draw blood for the first time. She thought that she might have deserved it - after all, she'd corrected him, about the proper name of the dish that had been served for dinner that night. But she would never forget the helpless fear, as Hiswafion's face turned dark with rage, and he raised his hand to strike her.

The next day, Laurea's mother took her to visit her cousin the prophetess, Faenglorien. To Laureamoriel's surprise, Almare showed Faenglorien the cut and bruise on Laurea's cheek, and confessed everything, everything of the dangerous monster Hiswafion had become, in the privacy of his own home.

Faenglorien was fearful on their behalf, but oddly hopeful. "I know someone who refuses to ever be helpless. No matter if she really is," Faenglorien said, and told them that she was taking them to see her Lady, Artanis. 

Laureamoriel's mother Almare frowned, and asked, "Lady Artanis? Prince Finarfin's youngest? Why, but she's just an elfling..."

Dark-haired, delicate Faenglorien, who looked much like her little cousin Laureamoriel, sobered and told Almare, "She's young, yes. And she certainly has her elfling moments from time to time. But, she is one of the most courageous, kind, and intelligent beings I've ever met. And I've never met an elf as determined as she. Don't underestimate Artanis, dear cousin, and don't ever try to lie to her."

So they went from Faenglorien's chamber to the blue-and-gold sitting room of Finarfin's daughter. Artanis was not there when they first arrived. Her chief hand-maiden Niniel, whom Laureamoriel vaguely had once been Artanis' nurse, told them that Artanis was engaged in some project for the Vala Aule, but would be with them presently.

Laureamoriel bowed and smiled politely, if shyly, at Lady Niniel, but her attention was on a young lioness, white as snow, curled up on a great blue cushion with a golden-furred grey hound. As Laurea gasped, the lioness awoke, blinking cerulean eyes at the young elleth.

"Snow doesn't bite, hinya." Lady Niniel said briskly, "And you may pet her, if you like."

Laureamoriel did, delighted with the lioness's soft fur, and so pleased that the magnificent, proud creature had consented to let her pet it, that she forgot all about the pain on her cheek and the desperate reason for this visit. As the lioness purred, a deep, bone-rattling sound, her companion awoke. So Laurea petted the greyhound, Golden Flower, as well.

"Golden Flower does bite, normally." A chiming voice commented with interest, "But it seems that she likes you."

Laureamoriel looked up to see Artanis, the beautiful, elegant, proud daughter of the King's youngest son. Blushing, slender, petite, delicate Laureamoriel curtsied, and Artanis nodded in acknowledgement, before turning to ask Almare and Faenglorien, "Odd companions for a sixth day's visit, my Faen. What can Arafinwe's daughter do for the wife and daughter of one of Feanaro's officers?"

Faenglorien told the entire story, while Almare, wincing and almost teary-eyed, confirmed. Laurea, so overwhelmed with lioness and noble hound and lady, felt numb, protected, almost, from the emotion, the horror, of the moment when her mother permitted their cousin to tell a royal lady of their suffering, and make it real. But Laurea kept her wits about her enough to wonder at the flash of empathy in Artanis' eyes. After all, what could a Prince's daughter have ever had to fear?

When Faenglorien was finished, Artanis merely nodded, and promised, "I will take you into my service, if that is what you wish. And I will protect you." 

Almare, out of options, accepted. And Artanis kept her promise, despite Niniel's objection that she should have asked her parents first, before taking two of Crown Prince Feanaro's elves into her own service.

And Artanis should have, of course, which precipitated a fight with her family that led to Artanis taking her nascent household and moving them into a dilapidated townhouse in a barely-polite district of Tirion. But still, Artanis kept her promise, and as she foresaw, the criminals who called their new neighborhood home gradually began to leave for other places.

It was a wonderful time for Laureamoriel. She was safe, safe for the first time in her life from her father's temper, unkind words, and harsher blows. When Laurea corrected Artanis one night at the dinner table, Artanis merely gave her an irritated look which melted into a startled smile, and then complimented Laureamoriel on her cleverness. The next day, she found Laureamoriel a tutor, and soon after Laurea began helping Artanis with one of her projects or another. It was the beginning of Lady Artanis, investor and elf-of-business, and Laurea was a part of it.

Almare was enjoying their new circumstances much less. As comfortable as their new townhome became within a few weeks and months, and as glorified an address as it would become in future years, Almare was never happy there. She missed the palace, the cachet that she had possessed as one of the Crown Prince's favored officers' wives. Hiswafion had abused her, but she still missed him dreadfully.

Artanis did not seem to miss the palace, although the first few weeks in their new home were challenging for all of them, even their Lady. But she did feel keenly the separation from her own parents, with whom she'd quarreled over taking Almare and Laureamoriel into her service. At one point, Princess Irime, Aran Finwe's younger daughter and Artanis' youngest aunt, visited to extend an olive branch to the young royal Lady, on her mother the Princess Earwen's behalf.

Artanis accepted. As she and Lady Niniel were preparing to leave for tea with her mother, she paused, her eyes resting on both Almare and Laureamoriel. After a few moments, Artanis commanded, "Laurea. Come with us."

As they returned to the palace where her father dwelled with the Crown Prince, Laurea shivered in helpless fear. Artanis was lost in her own thoughts, but Niniel's strict but kind eyes fell on Laureamoriel, and the maternal elleth commanded gently, "Laurea hinya, stop that fidgeting. You are wrinkling your gown. Here, help me fix our aranelya's hair."

"Oh, fuss fuss fuss, Niniel, it's fine," Artanis protested, but a look from Niniel had her sighing and turning about, tacit permission for Niniel and Laureamoriel to straighten the gold, silver, and pale blue ribbons in Artanis' gold and silver hair.

Soon enough, they were in the Princess Earwen's bright solar, and Laureamoriel was amazed at how Artanis was able to convey in polite words how very unimpressed she was with her parents. She was also amazed at how Princess Earwen was able to convey love for her daughter at the same time as a lack of tolerance for Artanis' poor attitude, all in the way she offered her daughter tea. Also present was Princess Irime, and Crown Princess Nerdanel, Feanaro's estranged wife.

Before the desserts were served, Crown Prince Feanaro himself came to Princess Earwen's solar, with Laureamoriel's father Hiswafion at his side.

Prince Feanaro insisted that he was going to take Almare and Laureamoriel back for Hiswafion.

Hiswafion himself bid his daughter, "Come, Laureamoriel. Cease this foolishness. I wish you to return home, with me." Hiswafion's eyes held something of apology, and the love that he did truly feel for his daughter.

Almare wasn't there - and Laurea now knew why Artanis had not brought her. Her mother would have gone. Laurea would not. She knew that she should, that she owed her father her obedience. But in that moment, Laureamoriel found that she owed herself something as well. And she would not turn herself over to be harmed. So Laureamoriel shook her head, and managed to murmur softly, "No, Atar."

Hiswafion's face flushed with fury, and Feanaro commanded that Laureamoriel would accompany him. Feanaro obviously did not expect any of the ellith there to stop him, and, even as well as she knew Artais, Laureamoriel feared that none would.

Bu Artanis stood up for Laureamoriel, commanding, "No, uncle. Laurea shall return with me. She is my retainer, sworn to my service, and I do not consent to your taking her against her will."

It was Feanaro's turn to flush with fury, and Laurea feared for Artanis.

But then Princess Nerdanel said, "Let this go, husband. Consider it a price for Tani's having kept your secrets, 'lo these many years."

And that was that. Feanor's jaw clenched, but he commanded, "leave it, Hiswa. Otherwise pityaArafinwe's little blond bride will sniffle, and that... elleth who my father married will give her what she wants.

Princess Earwen beautiful face grew cold at the insult to her husband and mother-by-law, and she commanded her brother-by-law, "Get out, Feanaro. You are no longer welcome in my parlor, today."

Feanaro took his leave, Hiswafion with him, leaving behind Princess Earwen and her ladies, Princess Nerdanel and her ladies, Princess Irime and her ladies, and Artanis, Niniel, and Laureamoriel. 

Ever since Nerdanel had remonstrated with her husband, there had been a funny look on Artanis' lovely face. As emotionally wrung out as Laurea was at that moment, she worried over her lady. Princess Earwen sent her ladies away, and Irime left to consult with Queen Indis.

Princess Nerdanel turned to her niece, and comforted, "It was not your fault, sweet child. It was none of your fault." 

Earwen turned to her daughter, and commanded, "What was that about, yelde? What secret have you kept for your uncle?"

Artanis shook her head, looking away, but Earwen was the Lindaran's daughter, and she was not to be denied. It was the first time Laurea had seen Artanis lose any contest of wills about a subject matter other than housekeeping or fashion, and to anyone other than Lady Niniel.

Artanis at last answered reluctantly, "You know that I see things, Amya. Our past and futures-that-could-be, sometimes. Other times, I see different pasts-that-weren't, and the futures that belong to them, the futures-that-can-never-be. We all have a dark side. We all have the capacity to be monsters, even kind and good ellith like you."

Startled, Earwen blinked, but accustomed to being startled by her only daughter, she quickly recovered, and answered, "Yes, I suppose so, yelde, but I do not dwell on such things."

Artanis sighed, "I can't help seeing the visions. If I were to become...the worst version of myself, I could make even Melkor know fear." Artanis said that last in a dreamy voice, the way that some ellith would describe their long-hoped for and imagined wedding, or the birth of their first child. Laureamoriel loved her lady, but even she was scared of Artanis, in that moment.

And so was Earwen, though she did an admirable job of hiding it, "Oh, yelde?" She asked, as if only mildly interested. Laureamoriel wondered what kind of elleth it took, to be the mother of a force of nature such as Artanis.

Artanis continued in a more normal voice, "It is understandable that Finwe's eldest son, who inherited the most of grandfather's fiery spirit, could make of himself an impressively awful monster, too." 

Earwen gave her daughter a sympathetic look, and seemed relieved that it was all a might-have-been, as she comforted, " I suppose so, ammelda yelde."

Artanis permitted her mother to pull her into a gentle embrace as she explained, "But I do not talk about futures-that-can-never-be. We all have dark moments. It's the turning away from them that matters." 

Laureamoriel looked away, but she could still hear the Princess as Earwen said quietly to Artanis, "I love you, my daughter, though I may never understand you, and there are certainly times when I don't agree with you. But I think that you are probably right, in that last." 

As they left the palace that day, Laurea knew that but for the royal lady she now served, and Artanis' mother and aunts, and something Artanis knew about something Feanor hadn't done...or at least probably hadn't done (Laurea rather thought that Artanis might have been finessing the truth a bit there, at the end), and, oh yes, the courage Laurea herself had found at the last moment, she would even now be back with her father. And her mother would have followed. And they would have been taken to Feanor's estates with their father, and who knew when they might have again escaped or found safety. Laurea reflected to herself that any ellon can become a monster to his wife, and no one will stop him, and promised herself again, "I will never put myself in position to know that helpless fear. I will never marry."

Time moved on, and Laureamoriel, who was only a few centuries younger than Artanis, grew confident enough in her position with her lady to tell 'Tani that she thought Artanis was lucky, to have such caring parents who loved her even if they didn't understand her, and that Laurea thought Artanis should apologize to her parents for the way that she'd gone about setting up her own household to protect Almare and Laureamoriel, even if she wasn't sorry for what she'd done.

Artanis at first snapped back that Laureamoriel didn't understand what it was to be Artanis, but because Laurea knew her better than most, she ended up agreeing. As hard as it was for Artanis to admit to having made a mistake, she soon made time to speak to her parents, apologizing for the disrespect with which she'd acted, although not for what she'd done. After that, to Laurea, Artanis seemed happier, more at peace, even if she distracted for that week, and most of the next, but then...Tani rarely was still, she was always in motion. At her studies with the valar, or working on some project under their supervision. Or overseeing her investments, or helping Faenglorien's friend Rielsame turn the garbage and weed choked trickle of water and wild behind their town home into a beautiful garden.

Some years later, that last project was still ongoing, and Laurea leaned forward with a laugh to gently brush a streak of mud off of her lady's forehead, as they planted ferns near the creek in the garden.

Artanis tried to grab Laurea's hand, but missed, and Laurea squeaked as she realized that in trying to wipe the mud off of her Lady's face, she'd only gotten more of it onto Artanis (as Laurea's gloved hands were caked in mud, too). 

Artanis sighed, and then laughed, and Laureamoriel had to smile back.

"We'd best clean up before Niniel sees," Artanis remarked with a smile still lurking in her blue eyes.

Laurea, giggling, agreed, "Yes. And I have letters to write before then, asking for donations for the garden."

Artanis made a face, and apologized, "Sorry, nildonya. That sounds terribly boring."

Laureamoriel shook her head, "I don't mind it. I prefer ink to mud, anyway."

Artanis smiled, and then asked thoughtfully, "And what do you want to do with your life, my little Laurea?"

Laureamoriel accepted her lady's hand to rise, and then said hesitantly, "I'm not sure. I've always used my mother-name, my father didn't bother to give me a name, not being much impressed by a girl. My mother-name means golden ink. My mother tells me that when I was born, she saw a golden light spilling across the sky like golden ink- like the light of Laurelin, the golden tree, but different."

Artanis put an arm around Laurea as they walked back towards the house, and pondered, "Hmm, you write a fine hand. Perhaps a scribe, for now?"

Laureamoriel smiled at the rare affection from her lady, and agreed, "I'd love that. But ellith usually don't become scribes."

"My ellith - my friends- can do what they please." Artanis replied, voice unwavering, "Even marry as they please. I'll even dower you, for your years of faithful service to me. Should you find some ellon you take a like to." 

It was a noble offer, and deserved a gracious response, "Thank you, Tani." Laureamoriel managed, "But, I...I never want to marry." 

Artanis, who understood some of why, turned to look Laureamoriel in the eyes, before pulling her into a sisterly embrace and promising, "You never have to. Besides, I like having you to help me understand when I'm..." Artanis paused.

Laureamoriel smiled impishly, "Letting your pride obscure your wisdom?"

Artanis made a face and agreed, "Yes, that." 

Laureamoriel became one of Artanis' most trusted friends as well as her handmaiden and scribe. One of the few, along with Niniel, Faenglorien, and later the sharp-edged Ilcetiel, who would sleep in the great lady's chamber, and hold Artanis when her dreams and prophecies tormented her in the night. Of them all, only Laurea guessed that not all of the evils that Artanis saw of her eldest half-uncle were unrealized, and understood, too, that an elfling who had survived that kind of evil was never truly an elfling again. And Laurea understood the price that pain bought, and kept Artanis' secret, to her grave and beyond.


	3. Helpless Sobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almare returned to Hiswafion, although Laureamoriel never did. But in time, her younger brothers found her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The main story is set before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 400 years before the sun rises. Later parts of the story move to when the Noldorin exile rebels were crossing the Helcaraxe.

Almare eventually went back to her husband Hiswafion, and gave him two more children, sons who were named Siromo and Helyandur. They were about of an age with Ambarussa, and sometimes playmates. Their father never let them go to Artanis' parties, though. They did not know their older sister, as Laureamoriel stayed with Artanis as one of her trusted handmaidens, and neither Laurea nor Artanis were willing to risk Laureamoriel seeing her father or any of his or Feanaro's elves anywhere except for public places, with an armed guard for Laureamoriel, even then. 

For a while after Almare returned to Hiswafion, things were better. 

Their first son Siromo was a strong, capable ellon. From a young age, he showed signs of becoming an excellent warrior, like his father. He also studied architecture, and Crown Prince Feanaro himself took pride in Hiswafion's first son. 

Their younger son Helyandur, on the other hand, was earnest and hard-working, but a bit of a daydreamer. He reminded Hiswafion of his disinherited daughter, Laureamoriel. Helyandur had little interest in swordplay, but had a fine hand for drawing. Helyandur was a gentle soul, with an artistic spirit. He loved his mother, and he idolized his older brother, and worshipped his distant father. Even though Helyandur couldn't remember one moment when he'd pleased his father, ever. Even when Macaulaure, Crown Prince Feanaro's second son, praised Helyandur's talents, Hiswafion still was not pleased with him. 

When Helyandur, called Helyi, was 42, he drew a picture of an elleth he met at the archives, and had been greatly impressed with. He didn't have a crush on her, per se, he just thought she wrote the finest hand he'd ever seen, and was awed by her near encyclopediac knowledge of the archives. 

Neither knew, but it was the first time that Helyandur had met his oldest sibling, his sister Laureamoriel. Hiswafion saw the picture, and became enraged. He destroyed the sketch, and when that was not enough to vent his rage, he turned to helpless Helyandur. And he broke his son's hand.

Helyandur sobbed helplessly. He was a brave lad when it came to taking his punishments, but this one had broken his heart, not just his hand. Siromo defied his father for the first time in his life, to take Helyandur to a healer. Healer Isyatur had been experimenting with various substances that advanced and enhanced the healing process, and he used them, and his intricate knowledge, to set Helyandur's hand so well that it healed with no loss to Helyandur's skill. His hand would ache if he drew for days at a time, or in the dead of winter. But it was rarely that cold in Aman, and Helyandur didn't have that much time for drawing in his father's home,anyway. 

The healer Isyatur was loyal to Prince Feanaro, whom his betrothed Sendalusine and her family served. But Isyatur was also an ellon with a kind and caring heart. He told his young friend Ingloren, who told Artanis, who told Laureamoriel, of Helyandur and his broken hand. A conspiracy was hatched, and when Helyandur turned fifty years of age, he and his brother left their father's home for a day-long camping trip, and never returned. Instead, they joined their sister, and became retainers of Artanis. And Helyandur of the broken hand became known as Helyandur Golden Hand, the younger brother of Lady Artanis' Golden Scribe. Together, they would work on some of the finest illuminated manuscripts of the First Age, Laureamoriel scrivening, and Helyandur illustrating, the two so in sync that sometimes they were working on the same page at the same time, writing from top to bottom, and meeting perfectly in the middle of a word. 

Siromo was called the Lady Artanis' Stone Sword. Siromo took well to the Helcaraxe, and though some elves laughed at him, Artanis, and Ilcetiel the first time the young ellon went off hunting with the two ellith, no one laughed when they brought back a lossemorco, a great white bear of the north, on their very own. 

Helyandur did not take well to the Helcaraxe. The cold got into his bones, and he was helpless at anything that required two hands. But Helyandur was a hard worker who wanted to do his part, so he insisted on helping as much as he could. One day, as he was bringing fish back to Artanis' camp, his hand spasmed and he dropped the bucket, right in front of Lord Turucano's tent. Helyandur remembered putting his head down in shame, but the expected laughter never came. Instead, a kind, jovial voice insisted firmly, "Helyandur the artist, right?" 

Helyandur raised his wide, dark brown eyes to meet the blue eyes of a golden-haired Vanya. One of the only Vanyaran elves to have joined the exiles, Lord Turucano's friend and retainer Sir Laurefindil. 

"S..sir?" Helyandur stuttered, nervous at the attention from one of Tirion's most skilled and famed knights. 

Laurefindil smiled, and put an arm around Helyandur, and before the young artist knew what was happening, he was warmly ensconced in Laurefindil's own blankets and furs, at Lord Turucano's fire. Lord Ecthelion's younger sister Lindanelle, one of Helyandur's one-time elflinghood playmates, was plying him with hot spiced wine and seal soup. 

"You have to take care of yourself, oh great artist." Laurefindil scolded Helyandur, gentling his voice when the young elf seemed far more abashed than, say, Lindanelle or her middle brother Iranto, when he scolded them. Very carefully massaging Helyandur's scarred hand with the skill of a warrior who had seen many injuries, Laurefindil instructed, "You are no weaker than anyone else, you foolish child. You just earned your scars earlier." 

Some time later, when Helyandur's sister Laureamoriel and Laurefindil were courting, Helyandur learned that while Siromo and Laurefindil immediately found a great deal of common ground as warriors and hunters, Laurefindil was a different sort of elf than Helyi and Siri's father had been. Laurefindil respected Helyandur for his skill as an artist, and for his kindness and determination. And he loved Laureamoriel, for so many reasons that he had trouble naming them. Still, Helyandur eventually had to believe, because Laurefindil was determined to show him, that Laurefindil wanted to get to know Helyandur for Helyandur, and not just because being kind to Helyandur and Siromo was the surest way to win and keep Laureamoriel's heart. 

Helyandur also learned that, while Laurefindil would help him with anything, Helyi had in essence acquired a second older brother, and an even bossier one. While it was true that Helyandur did push himself at times, particularly to impress pretty Lindanelle, he never appreciated having Laurefindil order him to rest instead of helping to set up tents. Although there was the compensation that, as an elf who helped to sew warm winter clothing and cook dinner, Helyandur got to spend more time with Lindanelle. 

Still, there were times when a young ellon just had to ignore pain, or so Helyandur thought. When Laurefindil and Laureamoriel were first married, and they were first in Turucano's camp instead of Artanis', Turucano's guard captain and hunt master Lumbacundo did not know of Helyandur's weak hand. So he sent Helyi out with the other young ellyn to hunt, after a full day's march on the ice, and assisting in a rescue, had already left Helyandur's weak hand trembling with exhaustion and throbbing with pain. 

Helyandur was beyond shocked that Laurefindil came to fetch him. 

"It's just a little pain!" Helyandur squawked indignantly, as Laurefindil and Lord Ecthelion marched him back to camp, having left Sendoron behind to take Helyandur's place. 

Laurefindil rolled his eyes, "I know your healer, Helyi. What did Isyatur tell you to do, after using your hand to tug a full-grown elf out of the water? "

"Rest." Helyandur murmured softly. 

"That's right." Laurefindil said, his hands gently resting on Helyandur's shoulders and guiding the young elf into their tent. Before he knew it, Helyandur found his hand tended, and himself warm, comfortable, and asleep. When he woke up, it was to find his sister beside him, with quiet words about how he must be careful, and how it wasn't his fault. When Laurea left to assist Artanis, Helyandur found himself once again face to face with Laurefindil, who had stronger words for him. 

A very stern lecture about disobedience and carelessness, in fact, harsher than any Helyandur had received since leaving his father's house. But it was said with love, and extended to his brother when Siromo came to see what had Laurefindil so worked up. 

"Be more careful, Helyi." Laurefindil ordered at the end, "Because I care about you. Both of you," He amended, pressing a brotherly kiss to fierce Siromo's brow as well, "Not just because your sister is my wife, but because I have taken you both to heart. You are my very own baby brothers."

And Laurefindil, who would come to be called Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, King's friend and Balrog-Slayer, would cherish his baby brothers for always. He would always remind his friends Turgon and Ecthelion when they passed under the bridge that Siromo had designed, or by a portrait that Helyandur had painted. And it was one of the proudest moments of Glorfindel's life, when Siromo was knighted for his service to King Turgon. And again, when Glorfindel's own baby brother (by marriage) Helyandur married Glorfindel's best friend Ecthelion's baby sister Lindanelle. Helyandur and Lindanelle would later present Glorfindel and Laureamoriel with their first nephew, Laurehandon. Centuries later, Glorfindel would be reunited with Laurenhandon's great-great-grandson Melpomaen, although he would not realize why Melpomaen looked so familiar for several years. And it would be Glorfindel's own grandson, Erestor, who would give Melpomaen a job as a scribe at Imladris, and later take his second cousin as an adoptive son.


	4. Helpless Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Turucano thinks that his friend Laurefindil is a helpless romantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This part begins before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 500 years before the sun rises, then moves to when the Noldor exile rebels were crossing the Helcaraxe. 
> 
> A/N 2: I'm using what I believe to be the Quenya terminology for blood-brothers or sworn-brothers, otorno and otornyar (plural). "Anyaro" I believe means older, "itta" means little or younger, and "pityaquen" means young one or little one.

His young friend and retainer Laurefindil was a hopeless romantic, Lord Turucano decided. Laurefindil could no more see an elleth in distress, any kind of distress, and not try to help, then he could...pass up a good ale, or a duel. 

"Hand me the hem of your cloak, Ecthelion, and be ready to catch him in case he falls." Turcano said resignedly to his cousin and friend, as Laurefindil moved into the spindly upper-most branches of the gigantic oak in Artanis' garden. 

Ecthelion quickly obeyed, and he and Turucano held the cloak out, ready to use it to catch their idiot titta otorno. 

Their anyaro otorno Sendoron said with concern, "When he gets down, I'm going to..." 

"Laure won't get in trouble for helping Sugar Paws, will he?" Thirty-nine year old elfling Ambaraxiel asked worriedly. 

Turucano and Ecthelion gave their older sworn brother a look, to remind him that it would be inappropriate to upset an elfling, let alone the daughter of one of Nolofinwe's and Arafinwe's good friends. 

"Ah..." Sendoron wasn't sure what to say, and the whole party tensed as Laurefindil's hand slipped, and he swung by just one limb for a moment. Then he righted himself, grinning down at Ambaraxiel and his friends. 

"Hurry it up, pityaquen." Turucano ordered with an exasperated, worried grin. "We need to have a talk." 

"Oh, like THAT's going to make me hurry." Laurefindil muttered, grinning as he scooped Ambaraxiel's white, fluffy kitten into his arms. 

Turucano held his breath as Laurefindil climbed down the tree one handed, his other hand securing the kitten safely inside his tunic. 

"Oh, thank you, Laurefindil!" Ambaraxiel said in relief, gratefully accepting her kitten, and taking Sugar Paws inside for a well-earned bath. 

"Ellith and elflings," Ecthelion said with asperity, smacking Laurefindil's arm, "You can't help but be their champion, oh Knight of the Golden Flower." The last being a reference both to Laurefindil's name, which meant golden hair, and to how he had championed an elleth whose betrothed had broken off their engagement at the last tournament, giving that elleth the golden flower he had earned for coming in second at the tourney.

So many ellith sighed after Laurefindil, even though he was only a newly-made knight of no house...well, no known house, although Turucano recognized in his friend the features of a disowned Lady of the realm. Still, that was a carefully guarded secret, and yet the ladies still followed after Laurefindil like brightly colored hummingbirds after an exotic blossom. But Laurefindil took no note of them, save to be gallantly polite and kind, as was his nature. No, Laurefindil was helplessly, hopelessly, in love with one of the Lady Artanis' handmaidens, and had been for centuries. Sadly, the lady in question- Artanis' Golden Scribe, Laureamoriel, was so in love with her books and scrolls, and dedicated to her lady, that she took no notice of any ellyn. Poor Laurefindil.

After they left Aman with the rebels and started to cross the ice, Turucano had a new worry, with respect to the youngest of his dear friends. Specifically, that Laurefindil refused to let anyone drown, if he could in anyway save them. Laurefindil had nearly drowned three times, already. The fourth time Laurefindil nearly slipped under the ice himself because of a rescue, Turucano was furious. That time, it had been just to save a horse! What had Laurefindil been thinking?

Laurefindil absorbed the lecture without even his normal apologetic expression. Instead, he seemed so happy that Turucano's angry words and planned punishment and unpleasant chores were having barely any impact on him at all.

"Are you even listening, titta otorno?" Turucano asked at last, in loving exasperation.

"Turu," Laurefindil replied, his eyes alight with happiness, "I'm sorry that I upset you...but I saved her horse, and she asked me for my name! Laureamoriel knows my name...and she thanked me for saving her horse!"

Turucano groaned, and did his very best to make sure that Laurefindil would not risk death to save anyone's horse, even if it be Turucano's or Laureamoriel's. Even if Laureamoriel did, finally, know Laurefindil's name.


	5. Helpless Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laureamoriel's husband is an entirely different type of elf than her father. And even in the Fourth Age, Glorfindel's advice to his students who come across men beating women is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The first part of this story takes place on the Helecaraxe, the epilogue takes place in the Fourth Age.

The way across the Helecaraxe was cold, and bitter, and long. But it was joyful, too, or at least it was for Laureamoriel, who fell in love with and then married Laurefindil, a knight of Prince Turucano.

But there were dark days, even for Laureamoriel. On one of them, she came across one of Prince Nolofinwe’s elves beating his wife.

Laureamoriel punched him. He stopped beating his wife, but she’d barely bloodied his nose. He raised his fist to her, and screamed that he was going to kill her, that ellith who hit ellyn would be lucky if their husbands left them able to walk.

Then Laurefindil was there, and Laureamoriel was facing him, and all of her own old elflinghood fears. But Laurefindil just squeezed her shoulder gently, as if she was one of his young soldiers who had done well, and said, "I'm disappointed in you, my dear wife."

Tears came to Laureamoriel's eyes, and she gasped, "I...I couldn't let him keep hitting her!"

Laurefindil pulled her gently into his arms, and said softly, "Oh, oh no. No, Laurea, Laurea-my-love, I didn't mean that I was upset at you for hitting him to stop him! Never that! No, I'm upset because you didn't hit him hard enough. Nelya, be a good little mongoose, and show Laurea-my-love how one is supposed to punch a wife-beating elf, if that fool makes a move towards her or us again.”

The fool did. Ecthelion's baby sister Lindanelle knocked him top over teakettle. He lay on the ice, dazed.

Lindanelle kindly advised Laureamoriel, "Harder, Laurea. You hit ellyn who hit ellith, harder."

Laureamoriel knew it wasn't funny, but she was just so relieved...she collapsed in helpless laughter. Fortunately, she had herself mostly under control by the time Prince Turucano was summoned to the site of the disturbance.

Turucano was widely known for being willing to forgive his favorites, such as Laurefindil, practically anything. Besides that, he had sworn to the Lady Artanis, Laureamoriel’s former mistress, that he would protect her golden scribe, no matter what may come.

But in this case none of that was needed to move the Prince to mercy for Laureamoriel’s infraction, and harshness for the offending ellon’s. Turucano had just lost his beloved wife, to the ice, and here this fool was, beating his. The ellon was disciplined, and sternly warned against harming his wife. She was protected, and moved to the service of the baby Princess Idril.

 

Epilogue

“’Tis no wonder, then, that Uncle Glorfindel has no patience for men who would harm women!” Remarked Kader.

“Aye, and he hates just as much any who would abuse any of lesser strength, especially children.” Explained Elion, “He saw to it personally that all of those who hurt cousin Melpoamen were punished, forced to sail in the company of guards who would take them to justice in the West. He took especial offense to not having been able to prevent the suffering of his many-times great-nephew.”

“I did indeed, my children.” Glorfindel agreed, having entered unseen during the course of Elion’s story.

“Uncle Glorfindel!” Exclaimed both princes, while the royal lord Ecthelion frowned at the Balrog-slayer.

“We’re not allowed to climb in through the balcony.” He said reprovingly to Glorfindel, who had to laugh.

“Elion, guren, if you improve your balance and upper arm strength to the point where climbing in through the balcony is even an option for you, I will personally see to it that it is put on the table.”

The golden highlights in the young lord’s brown hair glinted in the lamplight as he smiled, “I think you’ll have to run that one by Daerada, first.”

“I have my ways.” Said Glorfindel, who could remember when Aragorn would not have hesitated to get into even more trouble than his three grandsons had found this evening. Shooing the three youths aside so that he had space to sit betwixt them on the bed, Glorfindel looked at each in turn, then began, “Who wants to explain what could have gone better earlier this evening?”

“We could have not snuck out to go to a party.” Elros offered.

“He’s talking about the fight, gwador.” Said Elion, frowning.

“Oh.” Said Eldarion’s twin sons, who paused to think about that.

“I didn’t move around the back of the robber when Elros told me to.” Kader confessed, “Because I wanted to hit the foul villain in his stupid face.”

Glorfindel successfully fought the urge to laugh, and instead nodded sagely. “A momentary satisfaction is never worth sacrificing the safety or success of a maneuver. Someone should have stayed alert to the possibility of your quarry running away in that direction, or, worse, reinforcements, if he had been only one of a group.”

The Balrog-slayer’s eyes moved to Elion, and he lifted a single eyebrow.

The apprentice healer sighed. “I slipped up and nearly tripped when he tried to run, then I overextended and missed his dagger.”

“And….”

“And one of us should have run to the bell at the end of the street, to ring for aid.” Elros added. “Elion should have thought of it, because he’s the oldest….”

“Thanks, Elros.” Said that worthy sarcastically.

“But it probably should have been me who ran to the bell, because Kader wouldn’t have listened and Elion is the biggest, even though both Kader and I are better fighters.”

“A good summary, Elros. We’ll work on it.” Said Glorfindel, surveying all three of his King’s distant heirs with favor and affection.

Eldarion’s twin sons looked extremely pleased with the prospect of being the focus of Glorfindel’s attention for the next several weeks. Elion sighed.

“You’re mine, too, sunshine.” Glorfindel told him, pausing to bat the youth’s head gently. “Your brother has agreed. Just because your father and mother have permitted you to train only as a healer, doesn’t mean that you won’t satisfy me – and your grandfather – as to your ability to defend yourself.”

“Yes, Sir.” Said Elion, still a bit downcast. Then he brightened, “If my efforts please you, will you tell us stories?”

“What, there are stories that I have to tell that your sister and her husband haven’t already told you?” Glorfindel asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Some.” Said Elion cheekily. “She gets most of her stories from Erestor, and Theli gets his from Uncles Elladan and Elrohir, and none of them have heard the story of how you first found out that Erestor was your grandson, and that his father Arandil had survived the Fall of Gondolin.”

Glorfindel silently blessed Faramir and Eowyn’s youngest child for asking for that story, and not one of the ones that he still had trouble speaking of. Elion likely knew what he’d been about – he usually did – so Glorfindel gathered him up under one arm, and the twins under his other, and told them that story, on credit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Encouraging feedback is most welcome. Pointers on mistakes about Tolkien canon are also welcome, but should be accompanied by at least one compliment. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


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